Cause And Effect
by Wendy Scott
Summary: James is hurt on a mission. This came to me following TWINE. Thanks to everyone who gave encouragement, especially LP who wanted it longer. Usual disclaimers apply. If you like it, let me know.


CAUSE AND EFFECT  
by Wendy Scott  
  
A foot kicked. The body it made contact with groaned. Words in Arabic which the   
body's brain translated as He's still alive. Give him water.  
  
The body felt water being poured over it to the sound of laughter. Eyes opened   
slightly and made out a cup being placed inches away. Skin felt hot breath as a   
voice said in Arabic, I know you can understand me. I don't know why you haven't   
died yet you English turd. Do yourself a favour, no one is going to rescue you.  
  
The voice left and the door shut. Twilight returned and the body's hand felt for the   
cup. Painfully, arms pushed the body up enough to drink and then fell back to the   
stone floor. How long had he been there asked the brain?  
  
James Bond had been kidnapped, tortured and basically thrown into this cell to die.   
Four days ago, he had been in Bahrain enjoying the company of Sheikh Ammar al-  
Hamrain, a minor member of the Saudi Royal Family. Like most of his male   
relatives, Ammar had been educated by the English public school system and then   
sent through Sandhurst in order to make him useful for his homeland. M had   
despatched Bond on a "quid pro quo" fact-finding mission on the current factions   
known to be operating within the Arab nations. There was always some new group   
appearing and it was difficult to keep up to date. Although information was shared   
between the secret services, it was better to have it first-hand, rather than at some   
stilted meeting with a friendly nation "cultural" attaché.   
  
At 35, Ammar had finally found himself a wife and even though there was a month   
to the wedding, he had decided that he would enjoy what was left of his   
bachelorhood to the full. He felt that Allah had so obviously agreed with him as the   
representative from the British Government had enthusiastically joined him in all   
his activities from falconry to women. Unfortunately for Ammar, he had also been   
targeted by one of many small Islamic fundamentalist groups for kidnapping in an   
effort to obtain money as well as "exposing" the Royal Family as an example of   
western influence upon the Arabic culture.  
  
Bond considered his predicament as some serious bad luck. He knew that the   
moment he missed a scheduled contact call to the British Embassy, alarm bells   
would sound. Even though he and Ammar were taken to a village at least two   
hours drive from Ammar's estate, he felt confident that "something" would turn up   
whereby he would be able to get both himself and Ammar out of there. Act like the   
civil servant that you are, he told himself.  
  
He had almost got away with it too. On the second day of captivity, the group's   
leader had come to the cell and from the look in his eyes, Bond guessed that   
Ammar had told them the truth about his English guest – probably in an effort to   
save himself. Bond was asked questions which he refused to answer and was   
then beaten by four guards for his trouble. As the next two days passed, the   
beatings progressed further as the group tried to find out what was known about   
them.  
  
Finally, after being continuously almost drowned, suffocated and electrocuted as   
well as plain beaten, Bond was thrown into this cell. It already stank, but most of   
the immediate smell came from him. His nose was broken, bruising to his kidneys,   
broken ribs and it suddenly occurred to him, through the haze of his meandering   
consciousness that this was where he was going to die.   
  
Bond's brain had drifted off into another world thinking of anything but the here and   
now. Once a year, every agent in the Double O Section would undergo a "lost   
weekend" of captive training. They never knew when it would happen. Agents not   
on assignment would suddenly be kidnapped while going about their daily lives   
and taken somewhere to be subjected to various methods of information extraction   
both physical and psychological. There had been a couple of occasions when he   
had been able to spot his would-be abductors, but it was amazing how often the   
"there is a telephone call for you at the front desk, Mr Bond" worked. However, as   
this operation always works best when the target is distracted, Bond had suffered   
more than his fair share of romantic casualties, as he could never explain his   
sudden disappearance. Through his pain, James smiled, "It all pays off," he   
whispered.  
  
An image of Tracey appeared. Soon they will have all the time in the world.   
Through the mental fog he heard dull thudding, some shouting and then the cell   
door opened, James screwed up his eyes at the sudden light.  
  
"Ma'am, there's someone in this one," it was an English voice. The owner of the   
voice crouched at Bond's side and reached out to him. Bond could smell gunfire   
and dust. He tried to say something and managed to touch the boot. "We're   
getting you out of here mate," said the voice placing a hand over Bond's. More   
footsteps, a second figure squatted beside him and this time there was perfume. A   
torch shone in his face and James grunted.  
  
"It's him. Do you think you can carry him?"  
  
"Yes Ma'am."  
  
"Right; give me your gun."  
  
Bond distantly felt himself being lifted; strange he couldn't feel any real pain.   
Soon, Tracey my love. He could vaguely hear commands being made and distant   
gunfire. They were outside. The heat on his back, the smell of his urine and   
faeces soaked clothes was fading as he succumbed to the oblivion that was   
seductively beckoning. He was laid on his back and could feel vibrations through   
his spine. A helicopter to Heaven. James wanted to laugh, he felt euphoric. He   
couldn't wait to see Tracey again. Would Paris be waiting for him too? What about   
Elektra? How was he going to explain them? Tracey would understand. She   
understood in Switzerland when she found him at the ice-rink. It was the Job; it   
was always the Job and now the job had finally killed him. There were voices   
around him. James was vaguely aware of needles being inserted and an oxygen   
mask over his face. The thub-thub-thub of the helicopter was taking him closer to   
Tracey.  
  
"Well, Sergeant?"  
  
The medic looked up, "Not good Ma'am. On the surface, judging from the bruising   
I'd say massive internal bleeding, certainly dehydration. My main concern is just to   
get him to survive the flight."  
  
"Carry on". The officer made her way to the flight deck. The Communications   
Officer handed her a headset. She thanked him and spoke into the mouthpiece,   
"Base, this is Red Party. Repeat, Base, this is Red Party." Over the headset she   
could hear her call answered. "Base, search has been successful. Repeat search   
successful. Require immediate ITU on arrival. ETA 20 minutes. Red Party out."  
  
*****************************************************************************  
  
James Bond was not a religious man, however he was almost certain that Heaven   
was not full of beeping noises and smelt of antiseptic. He opened his eyes and   
saw a nurse looking at him.  
  
"I wondered when you were going to rejoin us," smiled the nurse. "Thirsty?" Bond   
made a small nod. The nurse took some ice and rubbed it over Bond's lips.  
  
The water trickling down his throat tasted like the finest champagne, "I thought I   
was dead", whispered James.  
  
"Not this time," came the reply. The nurse called for a doctor.  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"St Thomas' in London."  
  
The consultant appeared and began to carry out his examination, "Welcome back   
Mr Bond. You appear to have had quite an adventure." He shone a torch in   
James' eyes.  
  
"What injuries?" James could barely hear his own voice.  
  
"Fairly serious. No more questions now. I want you to sleep. The good news is   
that now you have come round and if no complications arise for another day or   
two, you will move out of here. I think it best if we keep you lightly sedated –"  
  
"No. No more," interrupted Bond, it was an effort to speak.  
  
The doctor nodded, "I understand that. I don't want you unconscious as the staff   
have to keep checking your signs. I just want to keep you a little dazed, slightly   
drunk so you fall asleep every so often and not concern yourself with anything,   
okay?"  
  
"'kay." It seemed like a good suggestion. Alive; Tracey - I'm sorry, I'm sorry.  
  
**********************************************************************  
  
MI6's Chief Of Staff, Bill Tanner rubbed his eyes. He looked at his watch, it read   
10 o'clock. He'd been reading Robert Harris' "Enigma" and realised that for the   
past 2 pages he had just been looking at the words, not reading them. He book-  
marked back 2 pages, closed it and walked to the room's window. He had a   
marvellous view of the Thames and the House of Commons lit up for the night   
opposite the hospital. He turned and looked at Bond's prostrate figure in the bed.   
The machines that quietly beeped, measured and monitored only added to the   
unease of waiting. It was always bad when an agent was in this situation, what   
made this worse was that it was James. Yes, 007 was human (even though he   
may like to act otherwise) and he injured himself quite often, but not this bad for a   
long time. Tanner could only guess at what had happened on this – how had   
James described it? Oh yes, "pathetic little crawl being nice to some obese slob   
who thinks he's it because he can order up a tent in the desert". Tanner snorted at   
the memory of James, very irate, maintaining that it was both a waste of his time   
and the Department's money to send him, Moneypenny would be able to do just at   
well. "Where did it go wrong?" asked Bill.  
  
Tanner started as the door opened and a nurse appeared. She smiled at Bill as   
she entered then carried out checks on Bond's vital signs. These had been   
performed every hour like clockwork. Tanner joined her at the bed. "Everything   
okay?" he asked.  
  
"As well as can be expected," came the reply. "He has turned his head to the right,   
would you know if that is the side he sleeps on?"  
  
"Personally, I haven't the foggiest. I could give you a list as long as your arm of   
women who could tell you though."  
  
The nurse smiled again, "He looks the sort." She looked down at her patient again,   
"Rapid Eye Movement; that's good, he may be waking up within the next hour or   
so. Ring for us will you when he does?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Want some coffee? You look as if you could use some?"  
  
"Please." The nurse left Tanner alone again. Bill looked at Bond and said, "I don't   
believe it you old bugger. Half dead and you still have them interested!"  
  
***************************************************************************  
  
Coffee. Yes, coffee. James opened his eyes.  
  
Bill Tanner replaced his cup onto its saucer and smiled. "It's about time you woke   
up," he said as he rang for the nurse. Before James could say anything further,   
Tanner added, "You have been out of intensive care for about 15 hours and you   
are in a room on your own."  
  
A nurse arrived and performed yet another check on Bond's pulse and reaction to   
light.  
  
"Water?" whispered James.  
  
"Course. Mr Tanner, could you please fetch some crushed ice? Ask at the station   
for a teaspoon." The nurse continued checking Bond's blood pressure and then   
urine level in the collection jar beneath the bed. The nurse made her notations as   
Tanner returned with the ice and spoon. She looked at both of them and smiled,   
"BP is better and no more blood." She became serious, "Mr Tanner, no more than   
5 teaspoons of ice and I will be asking you to leave in 10 minutes." She left.  
  
Tanner looked at Bond apologetically and gingerly fed him a teaspoon of crushed   
ice. "Your kidneys nearly packed up. The Arabs really gave you a good going   
over James. I'd hate to think how many lives you used this time," he smiled.  
  
The ice melted and lubricated Bond's throat, "It's good to be home. I thought the   
luck finally gave out." He opened his mouth to receive a second teaspoon.  
  
"We have to thank our Cousins for you being here". Tanner sat back in his chair,   
the smile faded. How much did he say at this point? Hell, everything! Be honest   
to the operatives and keep the lies for the MOD - the first lesson learned as Chief   
of Staff. "Your luck did give out. You arrested completely 5 minutes from arrival.   
You were brought in with the patrol commander and medic performing full   
resuscitation. More?"  
  
"I died," there was no emotion. "Damage?"  
  
"Can only be determined now that you have come round. By performing the resus,   
your brain continued to receive some oxygen. The US air force doctors believe   
that it would have been similar to climbing halfway up Everest without oxygen.   
Neurologists here concur. As I said, your actual condition can only be assessed   
now. The fact that we are having this conversation can only be a good sign."  
  
"Um, American doctors?"  
  
Tanner took a deep breath, "Your friend Wade."  
  
Bond smiled faintly as he said, "Oh."  
  
"I don't even want to think about how he knew," continued Tanner. "Under the   
circumstances, when you were found, the decision was made to take the most   
direct route possible back which meant flying over a US base. As the pilot was   
explaining the situation, Wade comes over the air and orders the 'copter to land on   
his authority." Tanner cupped his chin with his left hand, while his right arm   
crossed his waist, "They brought you back properly and stabilised you."  
  
Bond asked for more ice. Then, "Bahrain to here?"  
  
"48 hours for you to be declared fit for travel. Arrival at Brize Norton, then sirens   
and blue-lights here. Pity you missed it all."  
  
The door opened and the nurse announced that it was time for Tanner to leave.   
Tanner nodded and stood saying, "Mustn't argue." He picked up his coat from the   
back of the chair, "We're all glad you're still with us James." He handed the cup of   
melting ice to the nurse saying, "He had 3 spoons. See you tomorrow." He left.  
  
The nurse came to the bed, "How are you feeling Mr Bond?"  
  
"Tired, mangled, sore."  
  
"Sorry to say this, but that was the response we were hoping for. Do you want   
anymore water?"  
  
"A pint?"  
  
The nurse smiled as she sat down, "Unfortunately that isn't possible at this stage."  
  
"Tanner said kidneys, " Bond opened his mouth to the proffered teaspoon.  
  
"Amongst other things you sustained injuries to your kidneys and liver. You have a   
catheter inserted and to ease the stress on your kidneys we have to limit your   
liquid intake –"  
  
"I'll have to cancel the champagne celebration."  
  
"For a while anyway."  
  
Once outside the hospital, Tanner used his mobile 'phone to report to M, "Sorry, to   
call you this late but I am just leaving James." He walked to his car while talking.  
******************************************************************************  
M visited Bond the next morning. Regardless of how she felt of his lifestyle, M had   
an affection for 007 and it troubled her to see him surrounded by drips, tubes and   
machines. She had read the incident report and knew how seriously he had been   
injured; however words do not prepare you for the sight. 007 was going to be on   
the off-duty rosta for quite a while. They exchanged pleasantries, "I think you will   
have to try a new fitness evaluating technique on the doctors here. I don't think   
they will be as easy to persuade as Molly." Smiled M.  
  
"I'm sure I will think of something," replied Bond smiling faintly.  
  
"Do as the doctors say 007 without any arguments, that's an order. I don't want   
you on sick leave any longer than is completely necessary. You have cost me a   
case of 12 year old Bushmills as it is."  
  
"Sorry," Bond looked confused.  
  
"Despite our best attempts, Wade heard about your disappearance. The moment   
he learned that you had been found, he woke up Jack Ryan demanding immediate   
authorisation to assist. The Bushmills is a thank you to Ryan."  
  
Bond was lost for words. The involvement of the Director of the CIA was the last   
thing he expected.  
  
The door opened and M's bodyguard entered the room, he nodded to James as M   
smiled, "I have to leave." She stood, "I'll see you next week." She left.  
  
*******************************************************************************  
The real problem with recovering from injuries is the time the body takes to heal.   
At the end of the first week, his catheter was removed and his liquid intake   
increased. The second week saw a succession of specialists with Molly   
Warmflash in tow performing various tests and then waiting for the results. James   
was allowed solid food, but he hated using a bedpan. It was now week three and   
boredom had most definitely set in. He had an hour of physiotherapy every day   
which he looked forward to even though he had a male therapist, Mark (thanks   
Molly!), but he could look at Mark's female colleagues while he exercised.  
  
Moneypenny had been wonderful, checking in on his flat and letting May, his   
housekeeper, know that he was okay. She had bought mail in for him, let him   
know if there had been any telephone messages and generally kept him up to date   
on office gossip. Bill Tanner, Charles Robinson and some of his Double O   
colleagues had visited regularly.  
  
M kept to her word and visited again.  
  
Bond hated being cooped up which made him laborious for the nurses to deal with.   
He was constantly apologising to them. Together they devised a method whereby   
they would play poker or 21 with him and if they won, James would do as they said   
without question and if he won, he would still do as they said without question. It   
worked fairly well.  
  
At the end of the third week, James was finally allowed to walk about, bathe   
himself and no more bedpans. His temper improved enormously.  
  
On Wednesday afternoon of the fourth week, Doctor Hedges met James on his   
return from physio. "Good news Commander; there is nothing else we can do for   
you now."  
  
James sat on his bed, "When can I leave?" He hoped he didn't sound too eager.  
  
"I ordering a final ultrasound of your liver and kidneys for tomorrow morning. I am   
not expecting abnormal and I can't see why you can't leave during the afternoon."  
  
"Do you want me to have a final session with Mark first?"  
  
"Do you think it's worth it?"  
  
James shrugged his reply.  
  
Doctor Hedges said, "Not really no. As you have been told already. Those   
sessions were more to arrest muscle and ligature atrophy than anything else."  
  
"How long before I can go back to work?"  
  
"The burning question." Doctor Hedges rubbed her forehead, "Luckily for me that's   
a decision for Doctor Warmflash to make. All I will say on the subject is that to   
effect your treatment, I have been made aware of your profession. What you do   
would severely test the body of someone half your age – "  
  
"Doctor: I don't mean to be rude, but can we spare the lecture on my smoking and   
drinking; I have heard it all before."  
  
"Well actually I wasn't. All I was going to say is that try to keep everything in   
moderation and keep as fit as you can. Basically, your level of fitness is what   
saved you. A lesser man would have stayed dead. Now with that, I am going to   
say good-bye as I have other patients to see."  
  
Bond stood and kissed her cheek, "Thanks for everything."  
  
Doctor Hedges blushed and smiled, "Just don't come back."  
  
"I'll try."  
  
Bond called May to let her know that he would be home the next day. He called   
Moneypenny to let both M and Tanner know the good news and finally he called   
his florist and Harrods arranging for bouquets to be sent to Doctor Hedges and the   
nurses along with champagne not only for them, but also Mark as a token of his   
appreciation.  
  
Finally home!  
  
****************************************************************************  
  
Friday morning at 11 o'clock, James Bond entered Moneypenny's office. "Go right   
in, she's expecting you."  
  
"And there was I hoping to be kept waiting."  
  
Moneypenny tapped her shorthand pad, "Some of us have work to do."  
  
Bond opened the outer door to M's office, "Catch!" He opened the inner door and   
entered M's office as Moneypenny caught a small wrapped box.  
  
With a smile on her face, Moneypenny opened the present to find that it was   
James' hospital bracelet.  
  
**************************************************************************************  
  
"Welcome back 007. Drink?"  
  
"Please." James sat down.  
  
M handed Bond a Bourbon and ice and sat. "I am pleased you're out of hospital   
and I understand that you are seeing Doctor Warmflash following after me for an   
evaluation of fitness."  
  
"Yes." James sipped the alcohol.  
  
"No games 007. I don't want Doctor Warmflash manipulated as you have done in   
the past. If she declares you fit in her report to me, I will purposely assign you   
desk duties to three months. Understood?"  
  
"Understood. I would also like to be able to write and thank the commanding   
officer of the team that rescued me.  
  
"That can be arranged." The buzzer on M's desk sounded and Moneypenny   
announced the arrival of 003, M asked the agent to enter. As the door opened M   
said, "I can do better than that. The CO is our new 003." M made the   
introductions, "James Bond, Sarah Wilson."  
  
Bond stood and shook hands, "Thank you."  
  
"My pleasure," replied Sarah. "I'm glad you have made a full recovery."  
  
"I would like to buy you a meal at some point."  
  
M interrupted, "007, if you would excuse us. Doctor Warmflash is waiting for you   
and I will see you again in two days time."  
  
James noted the cue to leave, "003 – good luck. M"   
  
  



End file.
